Piece By Piece
by Minastara
Summary: When Roger met Riggs, he saw someone broken and lost. As they get to know each other, he and Trish hope that little by little they can fix the broken pieces.
1. Shattered

Disclaimer: Lethal Weapon is the property of FOX and Shane Black. I do not own the characters, I just like playing with them. :)

Key:

"Hi" – Speech

' _Hi'_ – Thoughts

Possible Triggers: Death of a Child (off-screen), Death of a Minor Character

 **~8~**

 **Chapter 1: Shattered**

 **~8~**

El Paso, Texas - September 15, 2015

The day that Miranda and my boy died, my world shattered.

That day had been filled with excitement, for both the chase and the upcoming birth. The chase ended with a steady hand and a slow exhale; the bullet exploding with all the elation I couldn't in that moment. My partner stood in shock as I jumped down and headed to the truck's cab.

"You got this?" I ask, slamming the door as I start the engine. He waved me off as sirens sounded, coming our way. I put pedal to the floor and I head back to the city. The entire drive I kept hitting the wheel, barely able to contain my enthusiasm! I was gonna finally meet my little boy and Miranda and I would pick his name. I was partial to Lucas while she wanted Ronald, after her father. We agreed that we would wait until we met him to decide.

I got to the hospital and stopped by the gift shop for some roses for my girl. As I made my way to the cash register, I saw a small, yellow, toy double-barrel shotgun. I gave a short chuckle and shook my head. Only in Texas…

Of course, I had to buy it. Miranda was gonna get a kick out of it. I finished paying and made my way to the elevators. I pushed the button; and, as I waited on the doors to open, I couldn't help the grin that spread across my face again. _'I'm gonna be a daddy!'_

It's a short ride on the elevator to the maternity floor. I stop the first nurse I came across to ask what room Miranda was in. The smile that first greeted me dropped from her face and a small sense of dread creeps down my spine and takes up residence in my gut. _'Is it the baby? Is it Miranda?!'_

"Mr. Riggs, I'm sorry, but there's been an accident." The rest of her words are swallowed up in static. _'An accident? What did that mean? Are they all right?'_ The sense of dread from before has grown into a pit the size of a horse. I feel a hand on my arm pulling me forward. The next thing I see is a man, dressed in surgical scrubs, coming out of one of the rooms. Blood smeared his top and his head was down.

The nurse calls out and the man comes toward us. He looks at the lady on my left and then back to me. "Mr. Riggs?"

"Are they all right? Are Miranda and my boy okay?" I ask, hoping that the hole in my gut was lying to me.

"Mr. Riggs, I'm Dr. Clark. I'm so sorry, but there was too much trauma. We tried, but they didn't make it."

That sentence echoed through my brain and I kept praying that those tiny words would change. I pushed past the doctor, running to the room he had just walked out of. I run in just as the sheet is being laid over my Miranda's face. I stand there frozen, now praying that this is all a nightmare and that at any moment I'll wake myself up.

One of the women in the room clearing up asked me something. I didn't respond, or rather I couldn't. My girl was there, not moving. _'How did this happen? Why?'_ Then, the woman held up something, a flash of gold across my awareness. I focused on it and saw she held Miranda's twin-M necklace. A necklace she hasn't taken off in public since the day I gave to her. I reached out for the chain and the woman slowly passed it off to me. The chain and the M plates had blood on them.

 _Her_ blood. The bottom just dropped from under me. I hardly felt the wall or the floor as my back and ass hit them on my descent. This wasn't a nightmare; this was hell and I was living there. I could hear myself whispering "No… Miranda… no… baby, no…" over and over. The tears streamed down my cheeks unchecked, giving an outlet for a fraction of my pain. I have no idea how long I sat on that cold floor, muttering and crying. At one point, I stopped talking, though the tears kept going. Eventually, even the tears dried out. I had literally cried them all out.

It was then I noticed how quiet it was around me. The reason? The nurses and aides had all left. The door to the room closed, the cacophony of the maternity floor silent to me. Taking a deep breath, I look toward the bed. There so still was my girl, my Miranda. Someone had folded the sheet down to her shoulders so that her face was no longer covered. Though her hair was in disarray, her face, neck, and shoulders were devoid of any blood.

If it wasn't for the necklace digging groves in the confines of my fist, I could pretend she was resting. God, I wish I could make myself believe that pretty lie. I move forward until I am next to the bed. I lean down and rest my forehead against hers, trying my best to ignore the coolness of her skin while my hand strokes her hair. _'Oh, baby. I'm so sorry!'_ I should have been there with her, instead of chasing drug mules out in the desert.

A small rap-tap-tap at the door brings me back to now. I straighten and look to the door. The door opened and in peeked an older, black woman with a short hairstyle in dark purple scrubs and lab jacket. She first looked to where I'd been sat on the floor. When she didn't see me there, she look up to the bed. Seeing me looking at her, she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. Her feet gave the smallest of squeaks as she made her way across the room to the opposite side of the bed. I stare at her, wondering if she is there to tell me it's time to go, to leave Miranda.

She seemed willing to bear my staring and silence, almost like she was waiting for me to breakdown again (though I admit she wasn't too far off in that assumption). I must have moved the hand with Miranda's chain because the woman's focus shifted to it. She went to the small sink against the wall behind her, turns on the water, and dampens a couple of paper towels. She shuts the water off, turns back to me, and said, "How 'bout I clean that off for you while you wipe that blood off of you?" She holds out both of her hands to me, a paper towel in each. I node and place the necklace into the paper towel in her left hand while taking the paper towel from her right. I use the towel to wipe down my face and get the dried blood off my hands as she made short work of her task. She hands the necklace back to me, not a speck of red to be found.

"Thank you, ma'am," I said, my voice sounding harsh to my ears.

"Oh, honey, you are more than welcome." She takes the tissues and throws them in the trash. "Look, take all the time you need to say goodbye, okay? I came in here just to make sure you hadn't passed out on the floor over there." She walked back over to the bed and continued, "And since you're up, this may be the time to ask. Do you want to hold your son?"

"What?" I asked, the expression on my face must have shown my confusion. After all, didn't that doctor say they both had died?

"In cases such as this, the parent is allowed to hold their child one last time. To help them say goodbye, they say," she explained. "Some folks want to do it, some don't, but we like to give them the choice." She gave me such a compassionate smile as she asked that heart-wrenching question again. "So, Mr. Riggs, do you want to hold your son?"

I had to hold back my knee-jerk reaction to scream 'Have you lost your damn mind?! Why the hell would I want to hold a reminder of what I've lost?!' at the nice lady. I looked down at the woman I'd planned to spend the rest of my days with. If she were here, she _would_ want to see him, touch him. She would want that memory, not just for herself, but for my sake. I nod and the nurse stepped out of the room. Five minutes or so later, she returns with a bundle wrapped in a white blanket. She gently shifts the bundle into my arms and I sit down in the chair beside the bed. After she told me again to take my time and to hit the call button on the bed when I was ready, she left.

My focus settles on the tiny baby in my arms. He is pale skinned with a tuft of dark hair. Just like his mother. "Looks like you were right again, baby. He looks just like you and your dad, though I will say that he's got my complexion," I say, the smallest of smiles cross my face. "Ronald Lucas Riggs. Welcome to the world, son. You will never know how s-sorry I am you couldn't stay." I laid a kiss to his tiny forehead, as tears I didn't even think I still had ran down my checks. I looked up at his mother, whose face was turned toward me (when that had happened I couldn't say). "I know you got him, Miranda. I love you both so much."

I hold him for what seem like hours, then with a deep sigh, and a final kiss to the forehead, I push the call button. It must have been the same work-shift because the same nurse walked in. I stand from the chair and hand my son back to her. I take notice of her name tag and finally thank her properly. "Thank you for this, Mrs. Johnson."

"No thanks needed," she said and he could tell she meant it. "Now come on. There are some people here for them." She leads me outside the room. As soon as we exit, one aide, a man, enters while a second, a woman, receives the baby from Mrs. Johnson. A minute later, the man wheels the bed out of the room, the sheet once again covering her face. The two aides walk to the service elevators on the opposite side of the floor.

As I stand there, watching them carry the two biggest pieces of my shattered world away from me, I knew I would follow them as soon as I can.

 **~8~**

 **Well, that's the end of Chapter 1 of Piece By Piece.**

 **I hope you enjoyed the chapter and don't worry it will get better for Riggs.**

 **I know, I know. How the heck can I start another fic when I haven't updated the JL one or finished the Crow one in over a year? I'll tell you. The dang plot bunny kept jumping on my head for this one. I mean it literally had me up to 2:30 in the morning writing and shedding tears for Riggs.**

 **Now, I will warn you, this is planned to be an OT3 featuring Roger/Trish/Martin. If you don't like, you can stop here.**

 **Also, I have no idea where I'm going with this, so updates may be sporadic at best.**


	2. Minutes, Hours, Days

Disclaimer: Lethal Weapon is the property of FOX and Shane Black. I do not own the characters, I just like playing with them. :)

Key:

"Hi" – Speech

' _Hi'_ – Thoughts

 **~8~**

 **Chapter 2: Minutes, Hours, Days**

 **~8~**

 _Takes Place During the Pilot_

 **3 Minutes**

Three minutes after meeting my new partner, Martin Riggs, I knew he was crazy. I mean, who goes into a hostage situation with nothing, but pizzas and a charming smile?

Apparently, this lunatic.

From what I could hear over the wire, this certifiable idiot is suggesting that the robbers kill a hostage (to up their cred, he said) and is serving himself up as the sacrificial lamb! I've got no choice, but to breach the bank and hope for minimum causalities. I'm half way to the door when we all hear shots sound out. Seconds later, men and women are tearing out of the bank, screaming.

Then, the cowboy walks out munching on a slice of the pizza he'd taken in with him. "What the hell were you doing?" I demand. He just smiles, wipes his hand off on his jeans, holds it out to me, and introduces himself. It would have been nice if he had mentioned the damn bomb instead. The concussive force of the blast had me stumbling back with him being pushed into my arms.

"Whoa!" he exclaims. He steadies himself, hands still grasping my upper arms. He lets go of me and turns back to the now enflamed building. "Well, I'm impressed. Those guys didn't seem like they knew C-4 from clay," he says. Now whether he was talking to me or himself, I couldn't tell. He raises his right hand to shove the fringe of his hair away from his face. Then, he turns back to me and shows off that grin again. All I could do is stare at him. This man has almost gotten blown away (in more ways than one) and he is _smiling_! _'Oh, hell no! I didn't survive a heart attack to deal with this insane shit.'_

 **~8~**

 **30 Hours**

Thirty hours after meeting Riggs I knew he had a death wish. True, the bank robbery and subsequent bomb should have been my first clues. Personally, I blame Avery.

After explaining to me how he would end his life, which was disturbing on multiple levels, the man is jumping out of and on top of moving cars. Moving cars! As my watch keeps going off due to my elevated heart rate (and I keep shutting it off), I pray that I can convince Avery to rethink this partnership. When the car that Riggs had chosen to ride on flipped through the barrier, I speed up, anxious to make sure the idiot was still alive. He is, surprisingly, and not too banged up for someone who had jumped from speeding car.

Riggs points to the man saying that he was getting away. Well, the bus definitely put a kink in that plan. "Huh," Riggs says. I look at him in what I know is disbelief. This man has killed 4 men in less than a day. This last one was hit by a bus and all he has to say is 'Huh'! He must have either read my mind or my expression because he replies to my speechless accusation with "What? I didn't kill him," before limping off.

' _Well, Avery's not gonna believe this.'_

Looks like my prayers are answered. Avery has dissolved the partnership. As we're walking out, I try to set some things straight, clear the air. The man seems to be a pretty decent cop when he isn't trying to get himself killed and I wouldn't mind working him again, just not as his partner.

At least that was my intention before he decides to judge me because I was scared. Damn right I was scared! Fear is a survival instinct, one that any _normal_ cop would have. Just because something snapped in him and broke that instinct doesn't give him the right to judge whether I can still do this job. And I have no problem letting him know just that. He starts to walk away from me, then I mention the thin sheet and getting 'it' done. He completely stops. He turns and I expected anger, but wasn't surprised by the blank resignation in those eyes. "Okay, Roger," he says, giving a slight smile. He continued on to say that I shouldn't be out in the field, basically that I shouldn't even be here before walking out.

Well, I was right. He was one hell of a detective, especially since he'd managed to find one of my biggest doubts and throw it back in my face after just one day with him.

 **~8~**

 **3 Days**

Three days after meeting Riggs I find myself completely sympathizing with him, despite his craziness. He is grieving a loss I could only imagine and he is putting it into his work. As I'm standing at my door with the bottle of whiskey he'd given me, my mind flashes back to the suicide plans and the man saying that he missed his girl. "I _am_ gonna see you tomorrow, right? You're not gonna go home and—" I imitate a gun going off at the temple. When he answers in the negative, I push it further. I state that he wants to, not really a question at this point, but he answers it as such in the affirmative.

That makes me wonder. It's not like he is lacking in the gun department given all the guns I found in his trailer and he has the money for burial costs (though he did say that he would have to check into the L.A. cost for such things), so why hasn't he done it already? Being the kind of guy I am, I ask. The answer is heart-wrenching and surprisingly the sanest thing the man has said to me in the last three days I've known him.

"Pretty crazy, huh?" he says with that sad smile. "That's probably the least crazy thing about you, man," I respond.

As he turns to walk away, Trish comes to the door. Somehow, in the span of sixty seconds, this man manages to turn on that Southern charm to talk his way into my house (again!) and into the scotch _he'd_ brought me. As Trish goes to lead our guest to the kitchen (and my chance for my present goes with him), I couldn't help the small smile. Ever since that man walked into my life three days ago, he's been trouble. I don't know why I expected that to change now.

I shut the door and head to the kitchen, where Trish is reaching up into the cabinet for some glasses for the scotch. Riggs is sitting at the island, the bottle already open and ready. "You sure you should be drinking?" I call out. Though it was barely noticeable, the man jerked like I'd surprised him. _'Huh?'_ Tilting my head slightly in bemusement, I look to where he'd been staring and land on Trish. Well, that's not surprising given that my lady isn't wearing much to hide those beautiful assets of hers. What? Does he expect me to get all hot under the collar over him looking? Please! If I did that every time someone looked at Trish's ass (and what a wonderful one it is) I would have stressed myself into a heart attack fifteen years ago. Besides, I'm the one that gets to take that ass home, so I have nothing to worry about anyway.

I walk over and take the two glasses from Trish. I kiss her cheek, saying, "Thanks, baby." Setting the tumblers on the island counter, I grab _my_ bottle of scotch from Riggs' clenched hand. "You want a drink, Trish?" I offer her.

She gave me that sweet smile and declines, citing the wine at dinner and an early morning as her reason. "I'm going to leave you boys to it. Good night, honey." I lean down as she rose up to kiss my cheek. She turns to my partner and says, "Good night, Martin."

He gives her this soft smile, different from the one he used to charm his way into my house, and responds, "Night, Trish." She walks out of the kitchen, the sway of her hips once again reminding me of exactly what I'm missing out on thanks to my unexpected guest. "Um, you gonna pour me that drink, Rog, or do I need to help you out? I mean I still got one good arm here," he quipped.

I turn my head back to him and pour the liquor in the tumbler until it was a quarter full. I hold the drink out for him. Just as Riggs is about to take the drink, I pull it back out of reach. "You didn't answer my question. You sure you should be drinking? You take those pain meds yet?"

"Aw, Rog! I didn't think you cared!"

"Of course I care. I don't want your crazy ass OD'ing on me. Now, answer the question," I demand, putting the glass down on the island counter.

He looks at the glass then at me. "Nah, Roger," he answers, that charming, joking smile transforming into the one he had given Trish. "I don't too much care for pills. I prefer to numb my pain the ole fashioned way," he explains, nodding toward the tumbler. Whether it is the soft smile instead of the charming one or the fact he called me 'Roger', I don't know, but I trust his answer and slide the drink over to him.

I pour up my own drink and raise the glass. "To our first case," I toast. He clinks his glass against mine and I silently add, _'And I pray the next one doesn't kill us.'_

 **~8~**

 **The End of Chapter 2 of Piece By Piece.**

 **Thank you all so much for the kudos and the reviews! They really lit up my days and put a little fire into me writing the next chapter. :)**

 **Until next time!**


	3. A Certain Rule

Disclaimer: Lethal Weapon is the property of FOX and Shane Black. I do not own the characters, I just like playing with them. :)

Key:

"Hi" – Speech

' _Hi'_ – Thoughts

 _Hi_ – Text Messages

This chapter has shifts in POV.

 **~8~**

 **Chapter 3: A Certain Rule**

 **~8~**

 _During 'Surf N Turf'_

 **Roger POV**

The three weeks were almost up. Tomorrow, Riggs and I are back on duty and I hope it isn't as crazy as my first three days with the Texan. Since the man has been out of town for the last two and a half weeks, Trish thought it would a good idea to invite him over to try to get to know him a little better before going back to work. When I invited him to Sunday dinner, Riggs accepted and said that he would bring a 'lil somethin' to complement the ribs.

So, of course I spent the last three days tenderizing and romancing that meat until it would fall off the bone. And what does this man do? He stands me, my family, and most importantly, my ribs up! _'Oh, hell no he ain't!'_ Going into the kitchen, I call Riggs. As soon as I hear the words "hello", I lay into him, relaying all of my efforts and hurt feelings about his absence.

When I finally stop and wait for his apology ( _what else could he give?_ ), all I can hear is harse breathing. Then, he says "I miss you too, Rog," in a voice that sounds just a little too happy for this time of night.

"Are you drunk?" I ask, before hearing the click of the call disconnecting. I pull the phone from my ear and look at it to make sure I heard right. No call connected. "I know that ass did not…" I mutter, hitting the redial button. The call rings out a few times before going to voice-mail. I hang up and retry, the result is the same. I hang up again without leaving a message, flinging the phone across the counter.

I lean against the counter, taking a few calming breaths before rejoining my family in the dining room. I sit down and start back on my kale salad like it was going out of style.

"Were you able to get in touch with Martin, babe?" Trish asks, smiling.

"No," I answer.

"Really, dad? Then, who were you yelling at in the kitchen?" R.J. inquiries, a sure smile on his face.

I shift my stare to him and the smile quickly drops. "Tele-marketer. You know how I hate them calling at dinner time."

"Right…" he says, returning to his plate. Riana just shakes her head and asks her mom if she would take her shopping on the upcoming weekend, thankfully shifting the conversation and mood of the dinner. For now, the elephant in the room was ignored, but not forgotten, just like those plated ribs on my right.

* * *

 **Trish POV**

After dinner, the kids went off to finish any homework and get ready for school tomorrow while Roger and I handle the clean-up. Normally, this would be R.J.'s night to do the dishes, but I want to give Roger something else to focus on besides those ribs on the counter. He's washing and I'm drying. We're about half-way done when the tension finally start to ease out of his frame.

"You know, honey, R.J. was right. You were really laying into Martin. What did he say?" I ask. When Roger didn't say anything and just kept scrubbing the same now clean dish, I knew exactly what had happened. "You didn't get him a chance to get a word in, did you?" I probe, shaking my head since I already know the answer. _'Honestly! Sometimes, I wonder who's supposed to be the senior partner in their relationship…'_

"Now, hang on. I may have said my piece first, but he's the one that hung up on me after a drunken 'miss you.' I even tried to call him back. _He_ is the one that didn't pick up!" he explains.

"I wouldn't pick up either if I thought it was going to be more of the same," I admonish. "Well, don't be too hard on him, Roger. I'm sure he has a good reason for missing dinner," I reassure him, though it was more to keep the situation from escalating than me believing that.

"I guess…" he mutters as he resumes washing the remaining dishes. I do notice that he is scrubbing one of the cast iron pans a bit harder than was necessary, but I figure that it can take it.

Chuckling at his antics, I put down my drying towel and turn toward the counter. The aluminum foil covered casserole dish containing the aforementioned ribs were right there. Though I know that Roger would deny this to his last breath, those ribs were a symbol, a peace offering of sorts, in hope that the two of them could have a fresh start to their partnership. I pick up the dish, go to the refrigerator, and place the dish on the inside shelf. "Don't worry so much, baby. I'm sure that Martin will be over tomorrow or the next day to try your ribs," I said, hoping to reassure him.

Roger sighs, grabs a towel from the drawer, and turns away from the sink, drying his hands. His forehead creased as he frowns, tossing the towel back toward the countertop. "It isn't just about the ribs," he utters. I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him closer until his arms encircle me.

"I know it wasn't," I whisper against his shoulder, and I _do_ know. This man has been a part of me for more than twenty years. I know his quirks, his habits, his likes, and his dislikes. I keep his secrets and he keeps mine. One secret being that he shows the world a tough guy image when he is the most sympathetic, compassionate man I have ever known. I know that something about Martin Riggs has touched my husband, and as I look into his eyes and see the frustration there, I decide it is time to take a closer look at Martin Riggs and confirm for myself if I can truly trust him with my husband's kindness.

 **~8~**

When I arrive at the office the morning after our dinner with Martin, I start looking through the files my assistant has left for me to review this morning. I open my laptop and as I wait for it to power up, I inspect the folders until I see one marked with the name 'Riggs, Martin'.

I put the other files down and flip open the folder. The first thing I see is an 8x10 photo of Martin in his service dress blues. His face was stoic like most military photos I've seen, no hint of that charming smile though the laugh lines told me it was there. His hair was combed back, no trace of the fringe I was used to seeing on him. Strangely, I find myself missing it. Setting the picture on my desk, I start reading.

Martin Quinn Riggs, born in Galveston, Texas, moved to El Paso at the age of 12. He joined the Navy right out of high school. _'Hmm, was that because of no prospects or difficult home life or perhaps both?'_ I wonder. Reading on, there was little in the file beyond the mention of his two tours of duty, his rate (E-5 PO2), his specialty in the SEALs (Sniper), and that he had been stationed at Virginia Beach. He was honorably discharged in 2012. He joined El Paso PD in mid-2013, making detective within the year. _'Impressive. No doubt, thanks to his to his SEAL training,'_ I muse.

The file's next page was focused on family history. His parents, Quinton and Deborah Mae, are still married and had moved back to Galveston. Martin is their only child. The rest of it I more or less knew. He marries Miranda Delgado in January 2015 and remains so until her death. The last line on the sheet gripped my heart.

Ronald Lucas Riggs, born on September 15, 2015 and died the same day. Martin's baby boy. His baby had died two days before my Harper came into the world. Two days before I almost lost my husband. I remember lying there on the bed holding her as the doctors worked on Roger, trying to get his heart to beat. Those two minutes and twenty-three seconds were the longest in my life. I can only imagine what Martin, who seems to be all alone in this world, is going through. In truth, I have no idea how Martin is holding himself together. According to Roger, "The only things keeping that man together were a few threads of string and Miranda's memory." And though that may be true to a point, I believe that as much as Martin wants to die that there is a part of him that wants to live.

Perhaps, that is why Roger is working so hard to make this partnership work. Roger sees a good man that needs his help, and I'm not going to let him take that fight up alone. I close the folder and pick up the photo again. Looking at the trim and neat SEAL that I know is hidden under the rowdy, rough-edged Riggs I know, an idea comes to me.

Now, it may not be enough to spin those few threads into a rope, but I owe it Martin, Roger, and my family to try.

 **~8~**

As I step off of the elevator, I breathe a sigh of relief. Roger is there, and he looks fine! _'Thank God!'_ When his watch had flat-lined, I had imagined the worst. Now that I see that he is not only fine, but bragging about their exploits, my mood shifts from relief to a mix of amusement and annoyance. As I stand there listening, the amusement starts to win out. In all the years Roger has worked Robbery/Homicide, he has never been this enthusiastic about his cases. No matter how much he may complain about Martin, the man has certainly brought the spark back into Roger's work life. Speaking of Martin, I take a quick glance around, but don't see any sign of him.

Announcing my presence, the uniforms scatter in fear of me, which I find hilarious since they aren't the target of my ire. Roger stands there for a moment, astonished and probably trying to figure out how much of his tale I'd heard, before asking why I was there. I decide to take it all in stride, for the most part. The removal of ribs from the menu for the foreseeable future seems to drive home the point better than any watch could. Laughing to myself, I press the button for the elevator.

It opens, almost like it was waiting on me, and surprisingly the other person I wanted to see is right there alone in the car. I step in.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey, Trish. What are you doing here?"

"Freeing an innocent man. Where are you coming from?"

"Psyche evaluation," he says, looking up at the numbers above the elevator car.

"And?" When he doesn't answer, I add, "Are you crazy, Riggs?"

He does this slight smile and says sounding more than a little resigned, "That seems to be the consensus."

I immediately respond, "Not to me." I keep my focus on the numbers as the car descends, but I can still feel his eyes on me.

Good. It means that I've gotten his attention.

We continue the elevator ride down to the parking garage. We bid each other good night and I'm about to go to my vehicle when I realize this may be the best time to ask. The best time without Roger around.

"Martin," I call back to him. He turns toward me. "I know that no matter what I say to Roger, he is gonna follow you down any rabbit hole you go. And that's okay. It's what he needs as a cop and probably as a man. But I can't imagine what I'd do if I lost him. So, I need you to promise me one thing.

"At the end of every shift, make sure he comes home to me, to us," I request.

The relaxed stance straightens slightly, reminiscent of a soldier awaiting orders. "Yes, ma'am. I'll do the best I can," he promises.

I smile at that thinking about the file and Roger's stories. "From what I hear… that ought to do." I turn and get in my car. I was just pulling out when I see Roger come into the garage. I wave at the both of them and continue on toward home. A few minutes later, I receive a text from Roger.

 _Going for drinks with Riggs. Don't wait up. Love you!_

I smile, feeling a little bit of my worry lift from me. Yes, I did come up here to confirm for myself that Roger was okay, but I also manage to fulfill my other objective, an objective that mirrors what Roger, who doesn't realize he is doing it, is trying to do by befriending Martin.

The soldier has his mission, a request really, and hopefully that will be enough of a start.

 **~8~**

 **End of Chapter 3!**

 **Hi, all! It looks like Trish has decided that she has a dog in this fight and she is ready to do what needs to be done! :)**

 **This chapter and the last are my first times writing in 1** **st** **person POV. How am I doing?**

 **At the moment, I don't plan to do this for every episode, but I do have a couple of specific episodes in mind as I proceed to T/M/R goodness. (The Season 1 finale! Oh, my goodness! I cannot wait to get to that.)**

 **Until next time!**


	4. The Kids Have It!

Disclaimer: Lethal Weapon is the property of FOX and Shane Black. I do not own the characters, I just like playing with them. :)

Key:

"Hi" – Speech

' _Hi'_ – Thoughts

 _Hi_ – Text Message

This chapter has shifts in POV.

 **~8~**

 **Chapter 4: The Kids Have It**

 **~8~**

 _During 'There Goes the Neighborhood' and 'Ties That Bind'._

 **Harper POV**

Today is a pretty day. It's quiet too. Dada and RaJ are gone. I haven't seen RiRi. I wonder if she will play with me later. She always does the tickle game I like.

Right now, I'm in my chair. Mama keeps trying to make me eat my food, but I'm not that hungry. The door opens and it's just Rigy. I like Rigy. He talks funny and he lets me play with his face hair. Dada and RaJ don't have face hair like Rigy does. Rigy says something that makes Mama smile like she does when Dada does something silly. When she messes up her top, she even tells Rigy to feed me like she does Dada. His face says he's a little scared, but that's just like when Dada gave me to him to hold a while ago.

He picks up my bowl and says that my food doesn't look good. I give him my spoon and he tries it. Mama and Dada have done that before to try to get me to eat. It was funny when they tried to smile when they didn't like it. Rigy doesn't make one of those faces. His face does go a little funny and says that it's really good. Finally, someone who likes what I like! But then he starts eating more of my food!

Then, he just stops, looking at something behind me. It's kinda like when Dada stops when Mama finds him doing something she doesn't like. "She didn't want any," he says, then looks down at me. "Right?"

That's not really right, but I don't mind sharing. I reach for my bowl and Rigy puts it back in my tray. Now that I got the bowl, I reach out my hand for the spoon Rigy is holding. I open and close my fingers so that what I want gets across to him. Rigy looks from my hand to the spoon and back, then says, "Uh, Trish? I think she wants her spoon. Is that okay?"

"Go ahead. Just be ready to duck in case she gets fussy," Mama tells him. Rigy's got that scared face again, but he gives me the spoon finally. I manage to scoop up some of the food from the bowl. My fist around the handle, I hold out the spoon for Rigy to get some of it. The scared face is gone, but I don't know what his new face means, but his mouth is open. I lean forward in my chair and put the spoon in his mouth. His mouth closes on the spoon, he leans back and takes the spoon out of his mouth. "Looks like someone decided to share! Good girl!" I hear Mama say over me. I look up in time to get a kiss on my forehead. I giggle at the touch. I love getting kisses; I like Mama kisses best though.

I look back at Rigy and he is smiling now at me. "Well, thank you very much, Lil' Harp," he tells me. He holds the spoon out for me. I open my mouth and he puts the spoon in. He is still smiling.

I like it better when Rigy smiles.

* * *

 **R.J. POV**

You know, this is what I get for listening to Dad. _"You need to stay connected to the old hood. It'll teach you some things,"_ he had said. Yeah, it taught me something all right.

Don't let an old friend kick you out of the car on the edge of the not-so-good part of town. I have been walking for about two hours. I tried texting and calling Marcus with no response. I still can't believe he ditched me like this. With the sun starting to set, I start to realize that I need to start thinking about who else can come pick me up. I try some of my other friends. One by one, they tell me they can't either because either they don't have the car or their parents won't let them out with the car.

I hit the 'End' button on my phone with a little more force than necessary in my frustration. I really don't want to call my parents, but I may not have a choice. As I'm scrolling through my Contacts one last time before giving in, I see Riggs' name. Dad said that he was only giving Ri and I Riggs' number in case of an emergency and to only use it if they couldn't get him or their Mom in that event. I know that this isn't technically an emergency and Dad will kill me if he found out. I look around at my surroundings and the people passing me on the sidewalk.

I swipe right on Riggs' name to make the call.

Thankfully, I manage to talk Riggs into coming to get me. Since he said it would take him about fifteen or twenty minutes for him to get here, I find decent (aka lit) corner to wait for him and to try to get my story together for why I'm so far from home. While lying isn't really my strong suit (according to Ri, I suck at it), I think I came up with a pretty convincing story where Riggs won't ask me too many questions.

Of course Riggs pokes a hole through my story two minutes into the telling.

Then, he tells me that I had to tell my parents where I was. Damn it! That's the whole reason I called him in the first place; I kindly inform him of that fact. I know that I am really venting my frustration about the situation at the wrong person, but maybe that's what I needed. Riggs isn't loud or even angry at my outburst like I know that my Dad would be. Riggs is just direct when he rebuts my irritation. As much as I hate to admit it, he does have a point. I have to take responsibility for my mess if I ever want Mom and Dad to see me as an adult.

The rest of the ride is in silence, the city flying by. I look over at the man Dad calls unstable and a menace. I'm not quite sure I would call him that. Sure, he's a little rough looking and he seems to love giving me and Ri bad advice (though I think that is more to see Dad's eyes bulge out in consternation than what he actually believes), but when it counts he's there and willing to at least listen.

It isn't long before we pull up to my house. I open my door and step out of the truck. I'm about to push the door close when Riggs reiterated, "R.J., be upfront and learn from them. All right?" I nod, not sure if I completely believe this is going to work. It must have shown on my face because he continues, "Buck up, kid. They love you! They aren't going to murder you."

"Uh, you have met my Dad, right? Tall, bald, tells jokes that are so old they have kids older than me?" I question him.

That gets a full-blown chuckle out of the auburn haired man. "Good point. Well, your mom can handle him just fine. _She_ won't let him kill you. Just be honest about it and it shouldn't be too bad. A slight maiming at most." This time I laugh too. I push the door close, about to head to my front door when I remember something.

Knocking on the window, I wait for him to wind it down and say, "Thank you, Mr. Riggs, for bringing me home and for listening."

For a minute he looks pretty shocked at my thank you, then he just smiles and replies, "No problem, kid. And just Riggs is fine. My daddy's the Mister in the family and he's still in Texas!" He pulls off after that.

I turn and walk to my front door, house keys in hand. My hand on the doorknob, I take a deep breath, stand up straight, unlock the door and step inside.

* * *

 **Riana POV**

"I love you too, Dad," I say to him. He smiles and makes to stand up. "Is it true that Riggs went with you to talk to Chauncey?"

He snorts, which evolves into that soft smile he was just giving me. "Yeah and can you believe _he was_ the voice of reason in that whole situation?" he asks. To be honest, I can believe it, and I don't think Dad is truly surprised by it either. True, Riggs is reckless, but from what Dad's told us that reckless abandon only applies to his life. Dad's life, or us, not so much.

"Really?" I question, deciding to keep my thoughts to myself.

He nods, "It was a weird experience. That man… he is crazy in a lot of ways and he has good reason to be, but if he would just give himself the chance, he could have a life here," he expressed, his focus not on me anymore. He stares off like that for a few seconds, then shakes himself out of his fugue and sighs. He shifts back to me and smiles. Patting my knee through the afghan covering me, he tells me not to stay up too late, get up and heads for the stairs.

I shout out "Good Night!" as he heads up the stairs, snuggling deeper into the couch. Rubbing my forehead, I sigh as I think about the last couple of days. I still can't believe Chauncey put my picture on his FB page! That idiot! I'm so glad that Mom got him to take it down (I think she hinted at the possibility of child porn charges or something), though mostly because I don't want anyone knowing I dated that moron. I mean, really?! What nineteen year old would put a sexy pic of their UNDERAGE girlfriend as the cover of their FB page and not expect trouble?!

Shaking my head at Chauncey's stupidity, I think about my Dad. I'm really not surprised he found out about Chauncey (Hmm, that reminds me, I need to have a talk with R.J. the suck-up about that), and I'm not really all that mad about their little confrontation. I mean, it was bound to happen. I think I'm more embarrassed about he had Chauncey thieving for him. A plan that Riggs came up with according to Mom.

I lean over toward the table, grabbing my cell. Opening the messaging app, I begin my text.

 _Hi, Mr. Riggs. This is Riana M. Thx 4 keeping my dad from killing C-Dawg._ I send the message. I was about to set my cell back on the table, not expecting an immediate response when surprise, surprise, one came in.

 _Hi, Riana. NP about Rog. Also, just Riggs, please. Aren't kids these days supposed to disrespect their elders? What's with all the manners? :)_

 _Blame Mom & Dad. & I'll call u that only if u call me Ri. :D_

 _You got yourself a deal! Night, Ri!_

 _Night, Riggs!_

I smile as I look at the convo history with a small bit of disbelief on my part. I'd told him to call me 'Ri'. I mean, that's weird for me since I only let family call me that. I mean, Riggs has only been Dad's partner for close to six months… Maybe it's 'cause Riggs is over so much or maybe 'cause even though Dad complains non-stop about him, it's obvious he trusts him with more than just the work stuff.

I shrug and put the cell back on the table. Well, whatever. It's nothing to really stress myself out about. Riggs is Riggs. As I lay back and listen to the sounds of the house and my family settling in for the night, I reflect back on what Dad said. I hope that Riggs realizes that he has more than a life here.

He also has family.

 **~8~**

 **End of Chapter 4 of Piece By Piece!**

 **Now, y'all have a little in-sight into what the Murtaugh clan think about Riggs!**

 **My timeline is a little weird, though I blame the show for that mostly. :) By the end of Ties That Bind, I estimate that Riggs and Roger have been partners for about five-six months since the show has them meeting in March 2016 (six months after Miranda died). If you're curious about my timeline for the eps, PM me or ask in a review.**

 **Until next time!**


	5. Time Heals (Not)

**Piece by Piece**

 **By Minastara**

 **~8~**

Disclaimer: Lethal Weapon is the property of FOX and Shane Black. I do not own the characters, I just like playing with them. :)

Key:

"Hi" – Speech

' _Hi'_ – Thoughts

 _Hi_ – Text Message

 **~8~**

 **Chapter 5: Time Heals (Not)**

 **~8~**

 _Takes place toward the end of 'Fashion Police'._

 **Riggs POV**

Leaving Palmer to her swamp and associated paperwork, I head to my truck. Spinning the key ring with my right middle finger, I think about the craziness that was today. Crazy is definitely one way to put it. I never thought I'd say that I survived being water boarded in a barrel. Survived… That thought brought me back to what Doc said. She was right about a couple of things.

Time _is_ cruel. Every day, Miranda is there with me, in my thoughts, in my dreams. My promise to her and Lucas always chief in my thoughts and actions; to do them proud and to see them soon. A promise made a year ago that was both harder and easier to keep on days like today.

I had just jumped in the truck and slammed the door shut when that thought caught up to me. _'No, I couldn't have…'_ I scramble for my phone, in a mild panic. I hit the button to wake the screen up, I notice a bunch of missed called notifications, but my focus was on the date.

September 16th.

I stare at my phone in total disbelief. I blink a few times, sure that my eyes were playing tricks on me, but nope. I lean back against the driver's seat. I'd missed it. The first anniversary of the day my world fell from under me. My throat was tight as I tried, and failed to hold in the rage-filled scream.

When I came back to myself, my throat was sore, so were my knuckles. I look down to see dents in the steering wheel as well as the dashboard. Flexing my hands, the pain flares and I can see that I'd broken skin, bleeding. I flex them again and the pain doesn't flare up again, so I'm pretty sure I haven't broken anything besides skin. Not wanting to think about what had just happened right now, I start up the truck and pull out of the parking garage.

My next stop is the 24-hour pharmacy closest to the beach. I park and head on in. I am greeted by the youngster at the counter. Giving a small reply, I pick up a small hand basket and head to the first-aid aisle. It didn't take long to find a bottle of Witch Hazel, some antibiotic/pain ointment, and some gauze packs. Everything I need in basket, I head back to the register up front. Out of the corner on my eye, I catch sight of the beer in the refrigerated section. Without a moment of hesitation, I deviate from my path to the register and add a six-pack to my basket as well. I make my purchases and drive on home.

Surprise, surprise, my canine visitor has once again found his way into my trailer. The scraggy mutt was taking a nap on my couch, after apparently scavenging for any morsel of food it could find, leaving the place more of a disaster than usual. "Really?" I say to him, looking at him. The dog just tilts his head and lays it back down on his front paws, ignoring me.

Shrugging, I put the six-pack in my small refrigerator and empty the plastic bag onto the counter. The process of bandaging myself has been repeated so often that it was really automatic at this point. Afterward, I put everything away in the cabinets and took a seat on the right end of the couch, which my canine invader graciously surrendered to me. I take out my phone, tapping a button to activate the lock screen. There's my lovely girl. I look at the screen for a second before tossing the phone to the other end of the couch, disgusted with myself. All I could do was put my head into my hands with my elbows on my knees to support me. ' _I can't believe I missed it. Sure, everything with Palmer and the Hongs had my days runnin' together, but I never thought I'd *forget*!'_

I must really have lost my mind. Maybe that's why Miranda's been haunting my dreams and my waking hours. Her way of reminding me that she's waiting on me. _'You almost had me tonight, baby.'_ And it had been a close one, the closest I'd come since coming to L.A. The memories of the cold water filling my lungs, my muscles straining against the hand pushing me down into the barrel while at the same time getting weaker from the lack of oxygen sent a shiver though me. Seeing Miranda then all but confirmed that I was going to die and I was ready, at least until…

I jump off the couch, starting my companion. Grabbing my keys and the beers, I open the door and whistle to the dog. "Come on, boy," I command. The dog precedes me out of the trailer. I open the driver's side door, the dog jumped in and I slid in afterward. Starting the truck, I backed up and peeled away from my home like the devil was on my tail. I can't be there now. Too silent, too many guns, and frankly, too much temptation to finish what Caldera started. Driving around L.A., I didn't really have a destination in mind, but when I finally stopped the truck I wasn't surprised to see where I'd taken myself.

The top half of the Murtaugh house was dark save for the small glow from Harper's room; no doubt from the small table lamp in the room. Trish, R.J., and Ri must still be out of town. Those kids tend to be regular night owls on the weekend and their rooms would have similar glows from the windows if they were home. The kitchen lights were on as well as the TV in the living room, which told me that Rog was still up. I pull off from the curb across from the house and park the truck in the driveway on Rog's side of the garage.

Grabbing the six-pack, my canine cohort and I exit the truck, heading for the kitchen side door. Before I knock, I glance down at the dog. "Be good or Rog'll kick us both to the curb and no food for you," I threatened. He gave me a slight whine and a quick lick of his chops. Taking that as agreement, I knock. The door opens almost immediately.

"Hey!" I hold up the beer as an offering. "Is the bender still on?" I ask though we both know that the bender had been a bust.

Roger smiles and says, "Well, I'm more in post-Bender mode."

"Oh, well, if you need it, I can lend a hand with those sandwiches before Trish gets back."

Rog takes the beer and stands aside. "Sure, come on in."

~8~

Shortly after getting the dog out of Rog's living room (a bribe of sandwich meat may have been involved), Rog and I grab a couple of those sandwiches, a beer each, and settle down on the couch in front of the TV. Though there was something sports related on, it became background noise while I focused on my food and beer. I was half way through my second sandwich when Roger chimed in.

"Not that I don't appreciate the company, but what brings you around, Riggs?"

"Aw, you know, the possibility of free food is always gonna bring me runnin'," I reply, smiling just as I take another bite of my sandwich.

"Oh, really? 'Cause I heard that you had a dinner invite," he said, that eyebrow up in its usual position when Roger is in interrogation mode.

I put the sandwich back down, chewing slowly. Swallowing, I pick up my beer. "And who did you hear that from?" I ask before taking a swig.

"I've got my sources. Now, stop dodging the question. Why are you here instead of having dinner with Palmer?"

"That _is_ a good question, Rog. Hold that thought." I take another pull from the beer before putting it down on the coffee table and standing up. I head for the kitchen. I go around the island, turn and reach up into the cabinet to the right of the sink. The bottle of bourbon was half empty, but it was exactly what I was looking for. Grabbing the bottle, I open the other cabinet and pull a couple of tumblers down as well. When I turned back to the island, Roger was standing on the other side. He glanced down at the bottle and glasses in my hands and gave me his (I call it) patented concerned look. The look where that single eyebrow is raised and the frown is long. That look that says he is worried about what I'm gonna do next. I ignore that look and pour until the brown liquor almost touches the rim. Setting the bottle down, I snatch up the tumbler and smile into the glass. "She was fun, but it's too soon. I forgot, Rog. Don't know how it happened. She's been in my dreams, even when I'm awake," I ramble on, throwing back the glass and enjoying the smooth burn of the liquor as it goes down my throat. "Maybe she's tryin' to tell me, remind me, but this mess with Palmer…" The back and forth with Palmer had been fun, very much link his and Roger's banter. She had indirectly almost gotten him killed. Almost.

I pick up the bottle and pour me another round, the glass halfway full this time. I quickly raise the glass and threw it back as fast as the first round. This time the burn barely registered, but the warm feeling in my gut was starting to spread nicely. I was about to pour another drink when a hand grabbed my wrist.

"Hang on a minute there. I told you that I wasn't gonna let you kill yourself in my house. Alcohol poisoning applies. Give me the bottle, Riggs," Roger commanded. I wasn't feeling particularly accommodating and hold tight to the bottle. From the glare that Rog is giving me now, I doubt my stubbornness is appreciated. "Martin. Give. Me. The. Bottle," he demands again. This time when Rog tugs at the bottle of Maker's Mark, I decide to let him have it. The room was starting to spin a little anyway. It wouldn't do to drop such a good bottle of bourbon.

Gripping the counter to steady myself, I slowly lean forward until my forehead touches the cool, marble counter-top. I close my eyes and hope that the world would stop spinning. Whether I'm there for minutes or seconds, I have no idea, but when the world finally slows down, I can feel a hand moving in deliberate circles up and down my back. "I'm okay, Rog," I utter, though I wasn't sure if my partner had heard me.

"You think you can make it to the couch?" Roger asks, stopping the back rub.

"Yeah," I answer. Bit by bit, I straightened up and make my way back to the living room. Apparently, Rog had muted the TV before coming to stop me from drowning my liver; the silence a complete welcome to my senses. I dropped down onto the sofa, my head laid against the back of the sofa with my eyes closed. Even with my eyes closed, I could practically feel Rog's eyes on him. I really doubt he's just going to forget about that minor breakdown. I'm proven correct when I feel the couch jostle beside me.

"So, you want to tell me what that was all about?" Roger asks.

"Honestly? Not really, Rog," I respond, my voice still a little hoarse from the bourbon.

"Okay, let me rephrase that. Tell me what that was about or I'm calling Cahill and Avery," Roger countered.

I opened my eyes then and looked at my partner to determine how serious that threat was. Roger was sitting there, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and that no-nonsense glare focused on his interlocked fingers. _'Well, damn. He's dead serious,'_ I realize. Closing my eyes again, I consider my options.

Option A: Don't tell Roger and he calls Cahill to put him in a seventy-two hour psychiatric hold. If I manageto get out of that, I'm sure that Avery will either fire me or put me on modified with me riding a desk for the rest of my career. All in all, a pain in my ass.

Option B: Tell Roger the truth and hope his partner doesn't go forward with Option A.

' _He already thinks I'm crazy. Doubt the truth is gonna make much difference,"_ I think, realizing that I actually don't have much to lose. Sighing, I lean forward mirroring my partner's position. Opened my mouth and told him. I told him about the dreams, about Miranda asking me to join her, how close I came to doing just that tonight, and why I decided to fight back. Then, I got to the thing that broke me: realization that I have forgotten the anniversary. "I should have let Caldera finish me off."

"Nah, man," he rebukes, his head shaking. "You did the right thing."

"'The right thing'? The right thing for who, Rog? I know that Avery would be glad to have me gone—" I ignore the token "That's not true" protest and continued, "And I know your life would be easier without having me around."

"Now, hold it right there!" Roger interrupted, stunning me. Once he was sure that he had my full attention, Roger continued. "We all know you're crazy, man. Suicidal even, but you told me that you wouldn't do the deed yourself because you don't want Miranda to be ashamed of you. Fighting for your life, fighting for my family's lives… that is the sanest thing you've done since I met you. So, I want you to hear me and hear me clearly: Thank you."

He couldn't have stunned me more. This man's life and career have been thrown upside down by my very presence. In fact, I'm sure that Roger curses my existence at least once a day, and here he is thanking me for fighting, for living. Despite all the craziness I have brought to this man, he still wanted me here. Truly, it was the most shocking thing I have heard in a while, but oddly enough the ocean of despair I had felt myself drowning in minutes ago seemed to recede to a more manageable tread.

All because of two simple words from this regular, family guy.

"Besides, you wouldn't last a day with another partner. Face it, you need me to rein in your crazy ideas," Roger smirked as he picked his beer back up from the table.

I couldn't help, but return that smirk with a smile of his own. "Oh, come on, Rog! You know my ideas are the best part of the work day. We wouldn't want you to get bored," I said, grabbing my new warm beer and took a sip.

"With you around, that'll never happen. In fact, I think me hitting the lottery has a better chance of happening than you boring me."

As I laughed at the truth of that, I picked up my half-eaten sandwich and resume eating while listening to Roger as he went on to describe other outrageous scenarios that would happen before boredom would set in on our partnership. With every new scenario and every laugh, that ocean of despair shrank until I no longer felt like I was sinking in it, but rather wading through it.

"Hey, Riggs," Roger interrupts my laughter.

"Yeah, Rog?"

"Next time you're feeling like this, if you don't think you can talk to Cahill, you come talk to me. All right?"

I nodded, "I will, Rog." Roger nods as well. They are silent for a moment, then Roger starts recounting the craziest things (and some that was even too crazy for him) that I had done.

Maybe Cahill was right after all. Maybe what I really needed was right here and honestly, it was a hell of a lot more concrete than Time.

 **~8~**

 **End of Chapter 5 of Piece By Piece!**

 **Wow! I cannot believe it's been a year since my last post on this story! I will admit that the off-screen drama silenced my muse for a while on this fandom (despite a great second season). Here's hoping my muse will fully wake up because there is a lot in season 2 that I want to get to!**


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